


The Cost of Sleep

by Aztecl



Series: Whumptober 2020: Natasha Romanoff [23]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Exhaustion, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Protective Steve Rogers, Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aztecl/pseuds/Aztecl
Summary: Natasha woke with a start. She sat up so fast, her head started to spin and ache with a familiar pulsation throbbing throughout. Standing up, Natasha murmured, "Shit, shit, shit."WHUMPTOBER NO. 23 - WHAT'S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?Exhaustion, Sleep Deprivation**There's actually two separate one-shots here because I wrote two.**
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Whumptober 2020: Natasha Romanoff [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949368
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Cost of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> There's two separate one-shots here. They are not related in a chronological way, okay? Good.

_Natasha screamed as electricity burning across her palms, dancing up her exposed arms like the other girls' ballet in the other room. Her head pounded with the pain brought on with the new wave of neverending torture. Vision blurring, Natasha was sure she was about to pass out and lose the fight to darkness. She'd never lost a fight before..._

_After what seemed like hours, the electricity finally stopped and died down upon the constant burning in Natasha's nerves. Natasha stretched out her trembling hands and took in the sight of the heavy black burns covering them. From years before, the previously scarred flesh seemed to radiate in fresher, angrier, crimson lines and jagged scars._

_Madame B stepped out from the shadows. "Control yourself, Natalia. You can do better."_

_Natasha didn't say anything, but instead steadied out her breathing. She prepared herself as much as she could for another lecture and jolt of electricity. It never came. Sighing with relief, Natasha forgot to hide her emotions and maintain her blank mask — the perfect disguise to everything, a cover to constantly rely on and watch over._

_With her guard dropped, Madame B motioned for the torture to continue. A bloodcurdling scream built up in Natasha's throat, clawing at the edges and leaving blood in its wake as the scream yearned to let loose into the free air..._

Natasha woke with a start. She sat up so fast, her head started to spin and ache with a familiar pulsation throbbing throughout. Standing up, Natasha murmured, "Shit, shit, shit."

The flight overhead switched on automatically. Jarvis already knew what she wanted after being woken up in the middle of the night, and kept things to an orderly routine. Only after a few seconds did Natasha finally ease down into a more relaxed sitting position. Her eyes darted around the room wildly, looking at her library of books and pictures.

Natasha tiredly picked up one with Clint. His whole demeanor radiated the unbearable urge to sleep, especially with the weathered lines of his face and his flushed cheeks flashing pink in the bright sunlight. She remembered the day clearly: a beach day with Clint and Coulson after Fury decided to be nice and give them a vacation (a one-time thing). Their handler had taken the photo after Natasha insisted on getting blackmail to remember the day and how dumb Clint looked when he slipped and fell into the cerulean ocean water.

Then, Natasha grabbed a book off the shelf and opened to a random page in the middle of the story.

The words were blurred in angry black marks. They flew off the page, making it very hard for Natasha to understand anything and actually read. She put the book down with a heavy sigh.

Rubbing her eyes, Natasha's hand found the cover of her bed and started fiddling with it absentmindedly. The spine of the book read, _War and Peace_ , in Russian, of course. It'd been a gift from Laura Barton a few years ago during Christmas. Natasha smiled as she remembered Lila's face when asking what the book was about. The girl claimed that she would be like Auntie Nat and read it, too. (Clint intended to help his daughter keep that promise someday.) Natasha wasn't sure she wanted Lila to be like her.

Her game of life was never easy, and never will be. Lila had a choice to live a semi-normal life and go to college and not constantly worry about keeping her emotions in check. Natasha, on the other hand, was forced into the real-life nightmare known as the Red Room. She killed and rose up amongst the other recruits and girls she'd called friends, finally earning the infamous title of the Black Widow.

Everytime Natasha closed her eyes, she could see the gushing river of blood flowing from those around her — the Red Room girls, the Avengers, and some close S.H.I.E.L.D agents such as Hill and Fury. Even Coulson, but he was already dead. Always in her hand was a gleaming blade dripping with varying shades of red on the color wheel: crimson, cardinal, and even mahogany which belonged to the flaking dried squares of blood. Her most recent nightmare threatened to pull Natasha back into the past again.

Natasha rolled out from beneath the covers and quickly made the bed, straightening out every line and curve that showed anyone had ever lied there. She was already dressed, and even skipped out on wearing a jacket despite the cold October winds outside. Natasha walked out of her room and onto her floor of the tower, barely sparing it a glance before stepping into the elevator and going down to the garage level. She hoped Jarvis wouldn't tattle and tell Clint of her sudden departure. Then again, the archer had stayed up late after being determined to outshine Tony in a drinking game. (Spoiler alert: they both passed out around two hours after the clock struck midnight.)

Elevator music played softly in the background. After a few seconds, the doors slid open and revealed one Steve Rogers.

The soldier stood by his motorcycle, idly parked next to one of Tony's expensive cars. The engine died down with a roar and Steve turned to face Natasha in surprise.

"Hey, Steve." She waved.

Steve checked his watch and said, "Nat, it's four in the morning. What's wrong,?"

Natasha snorted. "A lot of things, actually." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm just going for a walk."

Steve looked at her. Dark bags spread out from underneath her dimmed eyes. Natasha seemed to be walking at a slower pace than her usual hasty speed. Her movements were definitely off, skin paler than usual with the remnants of exhaustion.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Mm," Natasha hummed. "All my ideas are good."

"Well then," he said, "I'm coming with you."

"I don't need a chaperone, Rogers."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"I..." Natasha blinked. Her legs felt weak from a general lack of sleep. _Fuck._ "What are you doing here at this time?"

"Stop changing the subject," Steve replied, eyes softening into a deep cerulean. "You don't look too good, Nat. I just want to help you, if you'll let me."

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, disguising it as more of an act of comfort. It would've worked, but her hand struggled to find Steve for a moment, resulting in only phasing through the ghost of his shoulder. He coughed.

"I'm fine, Steve," Natasha argued.

"Are you really?" He countered. "Stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please. Also, walking in this type of weather is usually not advised."

Natasha offered a genuine smile at his concern for her. "What would you label as advisable? Eating takeout food inside the comforts of the tower?"

" _Home_ ," Steve corrected.

"What?"

"This tower—" Steve motioned around them and led Natasha forth, back into the elevator— "is our home. That includes you, Nat."

She shrugged and followed him, ignoring the feeling of adrenaline she got from Steve's concern about her wellbeing. Rubbing her temples, Natasha tried to block out the other annoying sounds of the elevator, the city outside, and Steve's distant sound of humming. It was something that sounded as old as him, which made Natasha almost stumble with sudden laughter. Almost.

Natasha didn't realize she was leaning on the elevator wall with her whole body weight until her head snapped awake. That's what always happened — Natasha being on the verge of sleep before she came to her senses and jerked her head back up before anyone even noticed. Sleep evaded her even more as the elevator jolted to a sudden stopping point. She yelled out as her body was pushed to the side, slamming into something (someone) big and heavy and falling with him.

Steve and Natasha fell onto the floor, limbs tangled together in a heap.

"What do I have to do to get some damn sleep around here?" She complained to no one in particular.

Steve realized he was practically lying on top of Natasha, and blushed a deep scarlet on his ears and cheeks. "Sorry."

"Did you hear me complaining?" Natasha smirked. Rolling to her side, Steve felt his face grow even more hot.

He grinned sheepishly. "What, do you suppose we stay in a broken-down elevator all night? Morning, I mean."

"Perhaps." She smiled back, leaning into Steve's chest and placing her head on his shoulder. "G'night and g'morning."

He chuckled. "Sweet dreams."

"Don't get soft with me, Rogers..." Natasha trailed off, finally letting herself fall into the comfort brought by sleep. Only when she woke up did she realize that her sleep had been dreamless.

* * *

**SECOND ONE-SHOT FOR SAME PROMPT BECAUSE I HATED THE FIRST ONE I WROTE:**

Natasha blinked at her half finished bowl of cereal. The soft tapping of rain outside the large window matched rhythm with her pounding head, dulling out the rest of her senses. She groaned quitely with tense frustration.

The morning was still dark, the moon hanging in a waxing crescent shape over the city of New York, including the newly constructed Avengers Compound. Illumination from specks of stars and silvery light streamed in through the window on the adjacent side to the kitchen counter where Natasha sat. She was perched up on a stool with one leg stretched out on another seat in front of her knee. Her head was propped up by one hand as Natasha struggled to win the fight over consciousness.

A door from down the hall opened softly, making her raise her head slightly.

"—Friday," Tony's voice said. "You can tell Pep that I will be there — on time. I think... When was that meeting again?"

Natasha wished she could disappear rather than deal with Stark at this time of day. She'd always lived in the shadows, so why couldn't she do the same now?

"Romanoff, I've known you for years and you still manage to scare the hell out of me!" Tony accused with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"What, did you piss yourself?"

Tony snorted. "I do try _not_ to do that, especially when I'm wearing a fancy suit for a press meeting today."

"Lemme guess," Natasha said, smirking, "you don't know what time?"

"I— uh... Pepper will probably come and pick me up." Tony's eyes were wide.

" _Probably?_ Man, I should've got some popcorn."

Tony rolled his eyes and walked over. He sat down next to her after he pulled out another spoon from the cabinet. Digging into her cereal, his face contorted into one of surprise and disgust. He spat it out onto the floor.

"I'm going to stop buying ketchup—" Tony pointed at Natasha's bowl of cereal— "if you keep eating it with cereal, Red. It is _technically_ my money."

"Sue me," she replied after a beat of silence.

Friday finally spoke up. "Sir, you asked me to inform you when Ms. Potts entered the Compound." Tony blinked. "Ms. Potts has arrived."

Natasha muttered something under her breath in Russian. Tony had heard her enough times to know it meant something along the lines of, _You're a fucking idiot, Stark, but still my best friend—_ okay, maybe that's not quite what it meant, but he hadn't yet summoned the courage to translate it with Friday in fear of what Natasha would do if she found at. Probably nothing, but Natasha Romanoff was scary to confront.

Tony immediately paled, standing up and checking his reflection in the stainless steel fridge next to him. He asked Natasha, "Does my hair look good?"

"No." She laughed. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure no one cares about you as much as you do, Tony."

Pepper walked in and greeted Natasha. The assassin smirked at Tony while Pepper fussed over the bags under his eyes, claiming it didn't look good for the press and he'd need some concealer. Natasha tried not to think about the bags beneath her own eyes. When was the last time she slept? Sleep evaded her, preferring to stay the hell away from the Black Widow, especially taking into account her constant nightmares and emotionless demeanor. Yeah, she couldn't blame it. From where her head had previously rested on her hand, Natasha felt it slowly slip away into the blank air. She felt herself ease into relaxation...

"—Natasha!"

Head snapping up, Natasha blinked a few times. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" Pepper asking. Her eyes were full of concern. "Maybe you should get some sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but you're still human."

Natasha muttered, chin falling again, "Barely." She looked around with her face blank. "Why is there milk on the floor?"

"Because you spilled your cereal when you fell asleep." Seeing her confused look, Tony added, "You were out like a light for about four minutes. Do you ever sleep?"

"Nope," Natasha admitted with fake enthusiasm.

Pepper was about to say something, but Tony stepped in again. "Maybe I should spike your coffee with sleeping drugs."

She glared. "Maybe I should go sharpen my knife, the one I always use on people that piss me off late at night. You'll be in the same category as only one other living person." _Clint._

Pepper sighed and checked her watch. "Tony, we've got to get going." She turned to Natasha and pulled out a small capsule of pills. "At least consider it, Natasha."

Natasha suspected she kept them specifically for Tony.

Later as she lie in bed, underneath a mound of fuzzy blankets, Natasha finally picked up the capsule and read the back side of it where an informational index was listed. The only words that stuck out to her were _dreamless sleep_ and _fast-acting._ Another label that was too small to read with her ache of tiredness blurred in Natasha's mind. Her most recent nightmare burning brightly beyond that thought. She took a deep breath and got up to grab a glass of water from the closest bathroom.

At long last, Natasha finally drifted off into a deep and refreshing sleep for the first time in awhile.

**Author's Note:**

> Natasha eating cereal with ketchup was actually a reference to a SNL skit where they made a trailer for a Black Widow movie. It was made years ago, but still makes me cackle. Go look it up!


End file.
